


The Event of the Season

by emmypenny (burritosong)



Series: quickly now, go tell the Avengers that the ducklings are no longer eggs [4]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Ducks, M/M, Minor Character Death, Phil Coulson has feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-04
Updated: 2012-05-04
Packaged: 2017-11-04 19:18:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burritosong/pseuds/emmypenny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil should have done something when Clint came into his office and said Tony was doing insanely stupid things with the ducks. Unfortunately, S.H.I.E.L.D. has yet to invent a time machine, so he's forced to live with his mistakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Event of the Season

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theoreticalpixy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoreticalpixy/gifts).



> I told Molly about my plans for the ducks. She told me she loved all of the duckies. I took that as a challenge.

" _Mom_ \--Tony's trying to radiate my kids. _Do something_."

"I am not even going to try to address everything wrong with that statement."

"But--"

"I'm working."

"But he's--"

"Barton. _Out._ "

* * *

Later on, Phil will blame himself. He should have taken Clint's concerns seriously.

But to be fair, it was not the radiation that they needed to be worried. Rather, it was the miniature, duck-sized hammer's return trajectory that had caused the current turn of events.

After lecturing Stark about responsibility, reason, and his severe lack of both traits, Phil calls a meeting and forbids anyone from trying to arm any animals at any point in the future regardless of how brilliant the idea may seem at the time, or how potentially lucrative a troupe of avian Avengers may be.

He leaves them to contemplate their terrible life choices, tasks Natasha to watch the remaining twenty-nine ducks, as she was the only one who did not take part in the debacle that he will now have to clean up (he's very disappointed in Dr. Banner and Steve), and goes off to find Clint.

A quick sweep confirms his suspicions, and he sheds his jacket and spares a look of dismay for his pants before climbing into the ceiling. Despite the fact that Clint loves it up there, finds it relaxing even, Phil hates it. It's too tight, too dusty. Fortunately, it doesn't take him long to find Clint.

He's lying on his back, hugging his bow to his chest and staring at the top of the crawlspace.

Phil's at the wrong angle, and the space is too small to maneuver in, so all he can do is reach out and awkwardly pat Clint's face and shoulder.

"It wasn't your fault."

"I know that." He knows it, but it doesn't stop him from blaming himself. "I guess I better go say good-bye to the kids."

And, okay, that was one reaction Phil was not expecting. He takes a deep breath to buy himself some extra thinking time. It doesn't help. He's still not sure what Clint's talking about.

"Where are the ducks going?" he asks, because he refuses to refer to a flock of birds as kids.

"I don't know. Who'd you call? The zoo? Some rescue group? The Official Save the Ducks from Dangerous Superheroes Club--"

"I didn't call anyone."

"You--what?"

"I didn't call anyone," Phil repeats. "We're not--we're keeping the ducks."

"We're keeping the kids?"

Phil took a breath. He was going to kill someone. Probably Tony. "We're keeping the...the kids. If anything, we're getting rid of Tony."

"I'm a terrible father."

Phil is not drunk enough for this conversation. He counts to ten and reminds himself that he loves Clint, and that even though killing Stark would be immensely satisfying, the subsequent paperwork would not.

"You are not a terrible father."

"I let Tony kill our baby."

"You did everything you could to stop Tony. It's not your fault that his depravity knows no bounds. This was not fault."

"I know that."

And now they've gone full circle. Phil reaches over and pats Clint's shoulder again. "Come on. Let's get out of here. The team has something for you."

* * *

They lay Donald to rest later that afternoon.

Planning the funeral had been part of Tony's punishment, and in a classic Stark move, it is disgustingly over the top. Clint loves it. At least, as much as anyone can love a funeral.

Thor recites a ballad extolling the young duck's greatest accomplishments, including several things that were actually done by Donald's siblings. Phil doesn't have the heart to correct him.

Steve and Bruce both deliver touching words. Natasha fires her gun into the air

Tony lowers the tiny, handmade coffin into the ground and covers it with dirt to a loud blasting of "Carry On My Wayward Son." It takes him two minutes to do, so they all--Avengers, S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, and ducks--stand around awkwardly until the end of the song.

Phil absolutely does not cry, and he will taser anyone who insists otherwise. It's just that his allergies were aggravated by climbing around a dusty crawlspace looking for Clint.

Clint's an asshole about it, and points out that Phil doesn't have any allergies as they're climbing into bed that night. Phil can't even throw a pillow at him because there are ducks everywhere. He settles for hitting him instead, because Phil Coulson absolutely does not cry over a lost duck.

"You so did," Clint teases, his words muffled in his pillow.

"Keep it up and you can sleep on the floor."

"It's okay to miss him. It's totally normal to be sad when you lose someone important to you."

"I'm not sad. It was just a duck."

"Well, yeah. But if you were, it would be okay. I'm sad, too. Donald was a good kid. Smart. Remember when he hid all the pop tarts from Thor?"

"I don't think any of us could forget that. Thor almost destroyed the kitchen." It also took them two weeks to find all the pop tarts, and if Phil's heart tugs a little at the memory, it's only because Donald was highly intelligent for a duck. It has nothing to do with the fact that Phil had spent hours training him how to open cabinets and boxes on his own.

He reaches out in the darkness, his fingers stroking over the feathers crowded around him. Ducks aren't spectacularly large, as far as birds go. Donald wasn't even fully grown yet. Somehow, the bed still seems too empty


End file.
